


ain't nothin' grand about the grand canyon

by mostlikelydefinentlymad



Series: the sass and murder show [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, Frenemies Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Road Trips, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson Friendship, Stucky - Freeform, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, fasten your seatbelt kids it's gonna be a bumpy sassy ride, massive piles of snark and flirting, oh boy these 3 go on a roadtrip in the volkswagen beetle, the sass and murder show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 17:10:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7692718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostlikelydefinentlymad/pseuds/mostlikelydefinentlymad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the sassy trio takes a road trip in a cramped classic volkswagen beetle</p><p>[can you move your seat up?]<br/>[no]</p>
            </blockquote>





	ain't nothin' grand about the grand canyon

The sun slowly sinks beyond the horizon and takes the last remaining colors with it. Steve sleeps peacefully for the first time in decades. Once upon a time when the world was darker and colder he'd spent many nights punching his way out of nightmares. But Bucky is softly snoring with his head pressed up against the cool window and one hand lazily clutching Steve's knee. Everything is right in the world.

When they were younger Bucky had spread out like a starfish in his sleep and managed to tangle them both in bed sheets and blankets whereas Steve was content to lie still like a boulder refusing to budge. It was for this reason that Steve had once piled couch cushions on the floor but Bucky straight up refused to take the bed. They'd both ended up with aching backs the next morning and, of course, still tangled together like a factory reject pretzel.

Sam hums to himself as he mans the cramped vehicle. He'd insisted upon driving and pulled some excuse about how a steering wheel was a _very vital part of driving_ and _not this time!_ _you can keep your grubby metal fingers to yourself._ He'd then went on a spiel about how the two of them were no longer allowed to choose the car that they'd be stuck in for hours as they'd picked a classic Volkswagen beetle that barely went over 70mph. 

Bucky shifts in his seat and drops his head on Steve's shoulder. They're already pressed from knee to shoulder but he's not complaining. He'd ask Sam to drive all night if it meant holding Bucky like this when the creases on his forehead relax and his mind allows him to rest. Tangled brunette hair tickles Steve's neck as Bucky's nose presses into skin. A person could get addicted to the feel of an open mouth breathing hot on their neck and the chilly night air coming in through the windows.

+

Two weeks ago the three of them had tossed ideas written on paper into a hat and Sam had chosen with his eyes closed. He'd groaned when he read messy handwriting that said _The Grand Canyon_ with a quick landscaped sketch under because no, he most certainly _didn't_ know what the thing looked like because he had indeed been born yesterday. Steve had insisted on doing the entire thing the old fashioned way with paper maps and no airplanes. No internet provided directions or GPS. Lucky for them Sam was well versed in pararescue which meant he could find his way out of anywhere. They'd yet to make a wrong turn.

Steve leans his head against Bucky's and sighs contentedly.

+

Bucky's arm glints in the sunlight as he unfolds from the vehicle and stretches. The sun rises with him; all warmth and puffy clouds painted in gold and rich reds.

"You should paint this," Bucky murmurs as Steve joins him. With something akin to the charming and smooth pre-war Bucky, he casually wraps an arm around Steve's waist.

Steve wonders if he even realizes he's doing it or if it's simply a natural reaction due to leftover shards of a memory. They had touched back then and often though it was strictly (sadly) platonic.

"I haven't painted since-" He pauses to think. "1941. Not sure I still have it in me."

Bucky's fingers catch in the belt loops of Steve's pants but he doesn't let go.

"Sure you do. It's like riding a bike, muscle memory."

His skin tingles under Bucky's touch and he curses muscle memory for ever having existed. This moment is too perfect to ruin with feelings.

Maybe it's the sunrise and how easily it catches on his words or maybe it's just the feeling of Bucky's solidity next to him. Or, alternatively, Steve's internal filter has never worked properly. Either way he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

"You could pose for me."

Bucky gapes, mouth slightly open and statue still.

"If you want to," Steve quickly adds.

"I would love-," Bucky begins.

Sam saunters up beside of them and impatiently checks his watch.

"I'm starving. We're stopping for breakfast. Lets go."

He points a finger in Bucky's direction and raises his eyebrows. "Don't even _think_ about getting behind that wheel. I'll leave you here, don't test me."

Bucky glares, silent and deadly.

When he speaks his voice comes out low and irritated. "I like the backseat."

Steve can't help the laugh that bubbles up in his throat. It's like watching a western and he keeps wondering who will draw their gun first.

Bucky steps back, affronted.

"Wanna let us in on the joke?"

Steve manages to squeak out "John Wayne" before losing it all over again. Sleeping next to Bucky is comforting but the fact remains that they're two large men crammed in the backseat of a very small car because neither want to separate. He's delirious with lack of sleep, having caught patches of it here and there.

Sam and Bucky exchange a look that says Steve has lost his everloving mind. This they can agree on.

He's still grinning as Bucky nudges him into the back and follows.

+

"It's a giant hole."

" _No,_ it's one of the seven wonders of the world. See? It's on the brochure."

Sam turns to snatch the paper from Bucky's hands but Bucky holds it far from his grasp and begins to read.

"The Grand Canyon is two hundred and seventy seven miles across. Did'chu hear that, Steve?"

Sam lunges once more and misses. Bucky reads louder.

"The rock found at the bottom is around two billion years old."

"Yeah _you'd_ know that seeing as you were there," Sam mutters as he manages to secure a corner of the brochure. It's short lived. The piece rips off as Bucky moves away from him.

"You're a real wise guy," Bucky retorts as he loudly flips the brochure this way and that.

Meanwhile Steve is taking in the majesty of the Grand Canyon by himself. He's tucked away on a nearby rock with pen in hand as he sketches on a McDonald's napkin. It takes at least five minutes of goading one another for them to note his absence.

Sam places a hand on Bucky's arm to placate him. "Wait. Where's Steve?"

The brochure drops from Bucky's hand as he spins around to check his surroundings. The two of them exchange worried glances as they look right past him. America really should rethink who she calls superheroes.

He clears his throat noisily and Sam turns, rolls his eyes like he'd known all along when, in reality, he'd been as clueless and misguided as Bucky.

"Man how could you miss him? He's _right_ there."

Bucky sobers and nudges Sam with his shoulder, hard. "You're a bird, how come you couldn't see him? Figured you'd use your eagle vision."

"Oh you wanna start that huh?"

"You bet I do."

And it begins again.

As it turns out, the Grand Canyon isn't quite so grand when it's impossible to enjoy.

Still. Steve gets to finish his sketch while they argue.

+

They've visited the giant hole in the ground, spent the night at a shady hotel that forced Steve and Bucky to bunk on the floor with couch cushions due to springy beds. They've oooh'd and awed over the space and air museum. Bucky had pulled out an older camera that had been a gift from Nat and snapped what felt like hundreds of pictures. This, Bucky and Sam could agree upon and they had for hours until Steve's feet were aching.

The rest of the day followed with many photographs - some posed and some natural. In a few of Bucky and Sam they were snipping at one another. Those were Steve's favorite. Frame-worthy really.

+

On the fourth day Sam breaks the midday silence. "Lets keep going."

Nobody disagrees. It's a true miracle, they _do_ exist.

+

Steve places another branch upon the small fire they'd built and rubs his hands together over it. Nearby, Sam groans in his sleep as he attempts to stretch out in the backseat of the small car but only succeeds in smacking his knee on the window handle. He'd put up a protest when Bucky suggested sleeping outside and began to rant about mosquito's getting in unfortunate locations.

The stars are shining bright tonight as Bucky smiles. His eyes sparkle in the darkness.

"Remember Maelynn Byers?" He asks, ruining the moment.

Steve groans.

Yes, he does. He wishes he could forget.

Bucky grins wider and pokes at the fire with a large twig.

"She told everyone at school that the two of you were going steady."

Steve can still see her face in his minds eye. She was a beautiful girl with bright green eyes and hair so blonde that it was almost white. She wasn't a bad catch. Well. Unless you counted her very loud voice and boisterous laugh. She could wake the dead with it.

For reasons unknown she'd chose Steve as the object of her affection despite the glory of his skinny twelve year old body with knobby knees and pointy elbows. He hadn't been able to shake her until Bucky had stepped in.

"Ughhhh," Steve groans once more.

"Had to make up someone so she'd think you were taken."

Steve had forgotten that part and how ridiculous it was.

"Oh, I remember. I remember!," he says excitedly. "Her name was _Burch._ You named her after a tree of all things; birch."

Bucky nearly falls over laughing at the memory and Steve continues. He closes his eyes, visualizes.

"You said she had _hair the color of dirt,_ eyes like _that one blue crayon_ and _she can hit really hard._ "

Steve opens his eyes, thinks.

"You made her sound like a boy."

Bucky smiles but it's not as wide as it was and he's no longer laughing.

"Wait," Steve says.

He looks at Bucky, really stares at him.

Hair the color of dirt. Okay, brown.

Eyes like that one blue crayon (not so good with words Buck). Darkish blue.

She can hit really hard.

Burch. _Bu_ cky.

Bucky had described himself. They were twelve, Steve needed a fake girlfriend and he'd described _himself._

Bucky scratches his neck uneasily as he purposely avoids Steve's stare.

"What?," he asks.

"You. _You're_ Burch."

Bucky's eyes cut to the moon full and luminous above them. "It's getting late. We should get some rest. Maybe Wilson will let you drive tomorrow, sure am getting tired of him passing up bathrooms."

He's not weaseling his way out of this one.

"Buck."

Bucky knows that tone. It means they're not resting until this is out in the open. Steve is a stubborn asshole and they're going to be dead on their feet tomorrow all because of him and his remarkable ability to remember the stupidest details.

Bucky prods the flame once more and tosses a couple more twigs on top. If they're here for the long haul at least they'll be warm.

The vehicle rocks slightly as Sam tosses and turns; mumbles in his sleep about brochures.

" _What_ , Steve?" 

"Why did you do that?"

Bucky inhales loudly through his nose and lies flat on his back.

"I don't know."

"Yes you do."

Steve joins him, kicking at Bucky's shoe with his own.

" 'cause it was easier to pretend."

"Pretend at what? That I had an actual girlfriend who didn't care that I wheezed every time Spring came or rattled like Becca's baby toy in the Winter? 'Cause even _I_ wouldn't have bought that lie."

Bucky huffs.

"It's not that hard to believe, Steve."

"I was a ticking time bomb, Buck. I got nose bleeds when the air was dry, missed a huge chunk of school because I was too sick to get out of bed. I wore the same clothes size for four years and got my butt kicked nearly every week."

Bucky sits up and squares his shoulders, defensively.

"So what?"

Steve sits up as well and leans back with his palms to the ground.

"I couldn't get a girlfriend and even if I could've she would've ran away the first time I coughed blood on her dress. You know that."

They've strayed so far from the original topic and Steve has no idea where they're going with this.

Bucky takes Steve's chin in one hand, harder than he'd intended to but sometimes Steve needs a little tough love.

"Listen here 'cause I'm not gonna repeat myself. Are you listening?"

Steve nods.

"There wasn't a thing wrong with you back then. Not a damn thing. They couldn't see _you_ is all."

Steve understands. Bucky isn't referring to his short stature or uncanny knack for blending in with walls. Rather, he's implying that they didn't see Steve the way _he_ did and wasn't that a gut punch.

It takes Bucky a moment to realize how hes really put himself out there. When that happens he releases Steve and lies back on the ground without another word. Steve does the same. They lie there in silence, both lost in their own thoughts, until Sam mutters a loud colorful word in his sleep. The keys fly through the open window and land with a thud. Apparently they'd been jabbing Sam in his sleep or perhaps he'd been dreaming of surrendering the drivers seat to Bucky at last.

Ha.

Fat chance of that happening.

Steve rolls over onto his side, facing Bucky. "So."

Bucky feigns sleep like Steve doesn't know what he looks or sounds like when he's sleeping. He kicks at Bucky's shoe with his own and gets no response.

Into the fire it is.

"Buck," he breathes as he cages Bucky with his body.

"NO!," Bucky cries as he surges up out of a dead sleep and violently pushes Steve off.

Perhaps this wasn't the best of methods.

"It's just me. It's Steve," he soothes as Bucky blinks.

"Steve? What...? Why were you?"

"For the same reason you called yourself _Burch_."

Bucky's voice comes out soft, barely audible as he settles. "Steve?"

Steve kisses him then, hand coming up to cradle Bucky's head and the other cupping the stubble on his jaw. It's a brush of dry lips to chapped but it sends sparks through Steve's body and he shudders. Hes been waiting decades to do just that.

Bucky pulls back, confused.

"Shhh. We have to be quiet," Steve says.

Sam is a real beast when he's woken before he's ready.

There's a moment where they don't move, both terrified of breaking the spell and ruining everything. And then Bucky runs his fingertips along Steve's forehead.

"Your hair used to fall over right here. You were forever blowing it out of your eyes."

If a heart could burst from words alone Steve would be a goner.

Bucky's thumb carefully presses against Steve's the inner curve of Steve's lower lip. "And here is where Billy Reubanstein split your lip when we were fourteen."

He instinctively closes his eyes and takes in the sound of Bucky's voice, rough and ragged by the fire. How gentle his touch is compared to what he can do with those hands.

"This place, right here." Bucky moves in closer until his breath fans along Steve's nose and mouth. His fingers find Steve's chin and he gently tugs.

"This is where I've always wanted to-" He cuts himself off and swallows hard.

Steve feels like his entire body is on fire. He can practically hear the rush of blood in his ears.

"-do this."

Bucky licks a wet hot path across the soft inside of Steve's lip and Steve's hands fly up to hold onto his waist, to keep him there.

"Nnnghh," he moans.

Bucky's tongue caresses Steve's; slow and the right side of hot and wet.

Without breaking the kiss he pushes Bucky against the ground and takes back his original position. Hands grip his hips hard as Bucky begins to trail kisses along Steve's neck. He alternates with hard sucking, leaving tiny purple bruises in his wake, and the faint whisper of a kiss.

Out of the two of them Steve is the gambler. Hes never met a bet or a dare that he won't take nor has he ever backed down from a fight. But this is different. This is warm muscle underneath of him with blue eyes shuttered against the night. This is Bucky and he needs _more._

Just as Bucky scrapes Steve's collarbone with the edge of his teeth, Steve rolls his hips.

"Mmmghh."

He's pretty sure the sounds Bucky's making are nowhere in the English language but they're so much better because they're coming from his lips. He grinds into Steve and its been way too long since Steve has been touched with such reverence. He opens his eyes and nearly wishes that he hadn't because, if he thought Bucky was beautiful before, he's even more breathtaking like this.

"Buck, I-," he begins.

The car horn blares once and he nearly jumps out of his skin. Apparently Sam had decided to venture to the front seat to sleep and his foot hit the horn on the way down.

He turned toward them and froze. Clearly he'd interrupted _something._ Oh god did he even want to know?

"No, no. Don't stop on my account. Go on ahead; carry on with your foreplay. I'll just be over here picking out what hotel we're gonna be staying at."

Nope. He wasn't going to sleep in a tuna can while getting a free show that he did _not_ want. He pulled out a massive pile of brochures and began to flip through them.

"We should," Steve began.

"Yeah."

They disentangled. Steve's skin felt colder and his arms felt heavy without Bucky's body heat.

"Burch huh?," Steve says with a grin.

Bucky turns away and adjusts himself. Over seventy years later and the little punk still crawls under his skin in the best of ways though he's not too keen on the idea of Sam witnessing.

"Yup."

Steve stuck out a hand. "Nice to meet you Burch, I'm Steve. I think I'd like to claim that title now."

Bucky stared at it. "What title?"

" _Yours_."

Cheesy? Yes.

Effective? Also yes.

Bucky grabbed hold with both hands and pulled him in close. "You sure about that?"

Steve couldn't seem to stop smiling. "Only if you don't talk loud enough to wake the dead."

"Deal."

The kiss that followed was hot and passionate where the other was slow and sensual. If Steve could sketch this moment, as they were right now, and keep it forever he would.

Sam squawked and began mumbling to himself about needing a separate room this time. Something, something _super soldiers and their sexual stamina keeping me awake at night. A man's gotta rest. Got a turn signal jammed all up in crevices that don't need occupying. I didn't fight and survive a war to put up with this nonsense.  
_

+

Sam sings to himself from the passenger side of the Volkswagen as he rolls the window down and lets the mid afternoon breeze hit his clammy skin. He's high on a decent nights rest and a hot breakfast.

_I come up hard baby, but that's okay  
'cause trouble man, don't get in my way_

Beside of him, Bucky rolls his eyes and hits the gas until they're creeping along at an incredible speed of 78mph.

Steve shuffles in the backseat from behind the drivers side and picks up the chorus.

 _come up hard, baby, I had to fight_  
_t_ _ook care my business with all my might_  
_I come up hard, I had to win_  
_t_ _hen start all over and win again_

Next up: Brooklyn, New York.

Home.

 

**Author's Note:**

> this was begging to be written. I mean they'd clearly driven that far in the teeny car and had likely switched seats etc. sam had that arm right across the drivers side so bucky couldn't even touch the steering wheel, ahahah. I needed this.


End file.
